


Heads or Tails

by Daxii, radiodread



Series: AkiHaru: out of reach [1]
Category: Given (Anime), Given (Manga)
Genre: 4 am authors, Angst, Crack, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Smut, we weren't even drunk, we're too old for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/pseuds/Daxii, https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiodread/pseuds/radiodread
Summary: Remember themomentwhere Akihiko comes back to Haruki's after an evening out and he ends up falling asleep on top of Haruki, where Haruki just leaves? This is two authors taking that idea and rectifying it.The common denominator here is that Akihiko absolutely doesn't get to fall asleep on top of Haruki, and Haruki absolutely doesn't leave.
Relationships: Kaji Akihiko/Nakayama Haruki
Series: AkiHaru: out of reach [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174418
Comments: 22
Kudos: 85





	1. cloud fucking twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author: Daxii  
> Twitter: [@Daxiifics](https://twitter.com/Daxiifics)  
> There’s some kind of embarrassing sleep deprived chat shots, from the live tweet of us writing this, if you want to laugh at us more than you probably already are doing.

They were really only supposed to have a few beers. A few. Considering the fact that Haruki and Akihiko are hanging out with _high schoolers_ , they’ve got to set some sort of example as the elders of the band, maybe make sure Ritsuka and Mafuyu don’t go down the wrong path early on in life. Haruki tries, he really does. But sometimes, it doesn’t go very well, and it can end up with him having had a beer too many, like tonight.

“You ended up drinking a lot, too,” Akihiko drunkenly chastises Haruki as they walk into Haruki’s apartment, but he leaves out the part where Haruki had told _Akihiko_ to not drink that much. Pot – kettle – black. Maybe they’re both just too drunk to think that far.

“I’m so sleepy,” Haruki complains instead. He half stumbles into the apartment with Akihiko in tow, actually carefully putting his bass case away before he completely and unabashedly crashes on his bed. “Feel free to spread out a futon on the floor,” he continues, voice muffled by his pillow.

Akihiko grunts. “Too much work.”

What does he expect as a guest? Of course Haruki isn’t going to take the futon or the couch—it’s _his_ apartment. Not that his couch isn’t comfy, he’s slept on it more than a handful of times when he’s been watching a particularly dull film, and he’s never had a sore back or neck when waking up. Akihiko has _nothing_ to complain about.

Haruki turns around to lie on his back so he can face Akihiko with a glare he means to be as annoyed as possible. Maybe he succeeds, maybe he doesn’t.

“Well, sleep on the damn floor if—”

His snapping response is cut short when Akihiko practically flops down on top of him. _On top of him_ . Haruki’s heart stops beating, and he’s pretty sure he forgets how to breathe for a moment. Normally, he’s sure he’d find Akihiko heavy—because who _wouldn’t_ when the guy is standing at almost two metres tall and has a very muscular body?

It’s a very bad position to be in, Haruki quickly finds out. It’s bad in the sense that, if he stays like this much longer, he’ll have to do something about a certain situation that will arise. And how the hell is he going to do that when he’s got a big 184 centimetres tall loaf lying on top of him?

“Akihiko,” Haruki says, somewhere between dumbstruck and pissed off.

There’s nothing for a minute, and then finally Akihiko turns his face to Haruki, a soft exhale against his cheek, and mumbles something Haruki can’t catch because _fuck_ he’s going to _actually die_ if he doesn’t get a tiny bit more space, he’s being suffocated by the overwhelming presence of _Aki_ , all his fantasies blooming wildly out of his control.

Also, Aki’s kinda crushing his lungs a little bit.

“At least move the hell over,” Haruki says now, lifting up on one side so Akihiko slides down towards the wall. “You’re a _mess_.”

“I’m your mess,” it’s a seemingly lucid statement, but he’s still got his eyes closed and is nuzzling further into Haruki’s shoulder.

“Oh, great. Glad to be of service, cleaning you up.”

“So useful,” Akihiko mouths against Haruki’s neck.

His _neck_ , and _fuck_ , it’s a bit of a battle between his ballsack and his heart bursting first, he can hardly _stand_ it, but... yeah, _yeah_ he _can_ stand it. He takes a breath, letting Akihiko’s scent, that familiar shampoo and cigarette smoke, wash over him. He likes it, this closeness. And he should probably get his fill of it whilst he can, before they both come to their senses and pull away. 

He’s wondered for a while now, if he’s Actually Gay or if it’s just his thing for Akihiko that’s driving him crazy, and where the hell does Akihiko stand on things like that? He’s sort of got (or had?) that girlfriend, but maybe that’s not a set thing. But it doesn’t matter. Grappling with his sexuality is something he can deal with when he’s not fucking gazeeboed. 

“So… so is this where you’re sleeping?” he asks. 

“Mmhmm,” the vibration of Akihiko’s hum reverberates through his body. “You?”

“Yeah… yeah, I guess,” he decides. “I’m just gonna…” 

He moves, releasing his (poor, just about dead) arm from under Akihiko and fitting it around his shoulders instead. It’s not _his_ fault he has to wrap him in a hug, Aki’s literally _in the way_ , where else is his arm supposed to go?

“Ok?” he asks, suddenly nervous, hand tentatively settling on the large muscles holding Akihiko’s shoulders together. He wants to knead at them, or dance his fingers over the skin if his hand were to slip down the neck of his top…

“Mm. Gimme a scratch, like, under my shoulder blade.”

“Oh, scratching you like a dog now, am I,” Haruki spits, fondly, finding what he thinks is the spot and scratching at him anyway. 

“Mm,” Akihiko moans ( _moans!_ ). “You got it.”

“Heh.”

Haruki lets his eyes close, lets himself drift with the rise and fall of Akihio’s chest against his. It’s been a while, too long maybe, since he’s had this closeness with _anyone_ , let alone someone he _wants_ it with. He’s sort of forgotten where his legs are supposed to go, how they’re supposed to wind together, but Akihiko’s got that covered. 

It’s his turn to shift, adjusting his position for comfort (or, in Haruki’s dreams, _contact_ ), with his head on Haruki’s pec and his legs sandwiching the nearest one of Haruki’s, and an arm flopping over his waist. And fuck, it better _stay_ on his waist, because if it goes any lower then all of Haruki’s supposed composure will be absolutely blown. As much as _he_ can pretend this is all pretty innocent, they’re just tired and drunk, his dick has other ideas. 

He really, _really_ wishes he’d dropped his jeans somewhere. Skinnies are a bad call, when you’re this hard (and _trapped_ ). 

“Ok?” Akihiko asks, that same tone that Haruki had used. Sort of consent, sort of comfort. 

“Mm,” Haruki hums, it’s all he dares. He’s liable to say something stupid, something like _nope, being murdered by a boner_ , if he lets himself use real words. 

He’s not used to this, but maybe… maybe Akihiko _is_ ? He’s certainly comfortable, and there’s no hardons rubbing against Haruki’s hip (and _fuck_ , Haruki did _not_ need to start thinking about that… what if there _was_ … what would he _do…_ he feels himself throb). He’s affectionate, more so than most men, always doling out hair ruffles and draping an arm around his shoulders. 

It suits him, in a way. For his tats and his piercings and his resting bitchface, Akihiko _is_ a sweetie-pie at heart. He’s kind with the younger boys, and his emotions are mature beyond his years. Haruki doesn’t _know_ , exactly, but he does know that that usually means someone has seen some shit, some heartbreak, some struggle… 

He tightens his hold, flinching at the thought. Aki’s so _strong_ , both physically _and_ mentally, and Haruki shudders at the thought of anyone cutting him down.

“You alright?” Akihiko suddenly says, low and sleepy. Haruki thought he _was_ asleep. “You’re all tense.”

“I’m fine,” Haruki whispers, squeezing around Aki and then relaxing. _It’s you I’m worried about_ , he thinks. 

“Good. This is nice.”

“Nice?”

“I don’t get this at home anymore, I miss it.”

He… he _what_ ? Sure, they’re drunk, and _sure_ , he’s half asleep, but where is _this_ coming from? 

“Trouble in paradise?” Haruki asks, not that he’s _digging_ , he’s just curious, that’s all. _Concerned_. 

“Not the word I’d use.”

“Trouble? Or Paradise.”

“Both.”

 _Oh_. 

“Cuddle me _,”_ Akihiko continues. 

“I fucking _am_.”

“Your heart’s not really in it, though,” he seems to whine.

He’s wrong, but Haruki’s not about to stop pretending he’s royally done with this bullshit and spill his guts _now_ of all times.

“Fine,” he says, trying to sound commanding, and rolls to face away. “You cuddle _me_ , if I’m so bad at it.”

“I didn’t say you were _bad_ at it,” Aki’s _laughing_ at him now, a soft rumble into Haruki’s back. “It was a good attempt. I’ll give you like, a B+.”

“Gee, _thanks_.”

“If you keep taking that tone, I’ll knock you down a peg.”

“Sorry, sir,” and Haruki shuts up just as Akihiko’s chest is pressing into him. 

“More like it. See, you gotta do _this_ ,” he says, and slips one arm under Haruki’s neck, “and then pull them nice and close, like a jigsaw piece,” and he’s tugging Haruki by the hip, flush against him, “and find some skin. Everyone likes a bit of skin.”

His hand slips into Haruki’s tee, and fuck, if he goes _lower_ … but he doesn’t, he’s got a big, warm palm pressing against Haruki’s belly, holding him tight, and his breath is tickling on his neck. Their legs intertwine, apparently instinctively, and it’s far more natural and comfortable than it was when Haruki was trying to sort them out. 

“Is this to your liking?” Haruki asks, feeling his voice hitch just a _little_ when Aki exhales against him again. “ _Sir_.”

“Mm, yeah. Your hair smells nice,” and he nuzzles him, and that thing Haru said earlier about _actually dying_ ? Well yeah. This is it. His heart has fucking stopped in his throat and he doesn’t even remember how to _breathe_ , let alone make a sarcastic comment. 

He moves his arm again, bending upwards and sliding his hand up to Haruki’s chest, settling it just as comfortably, like it’s _easy_ , like Haruki’s not about to make a mess of himself, or _more_ of a mess of himself, since he’s been dripping with anticipation for a while now. 

“You’re tense,” Akihiko notices, and _now_ what’s he doing… the arm that’s under his neck is adjusting, his hand finding _Haruki’s hand_ , and lacing their fingers together, and the hand on his chest does the same with Haru’s other hand. “It’s just me,” he says, so softly and sweetly, like he _means_ it. 

_Just me_. Just Akihiko. Just his unrequited love. Just his fantasy. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Haruki lies, ish. He’s not _bad_ , he’s on cloud fucking twelve, but he’s certainly not _fine_. 

Aki’s _really_ settling in now, pillowing the side of his face into the crook of Haruki’s collar, not too much weight, not on his throat or anything, just puzzling into him. His nose touches Haru, maybe even his lips (or maybe that’s wishful thinking), and there’s a contented sigh. 

“Yeah, I like this.”

“Anytime,” Haruki says, hoping Aki picks up on the sarcasm and not the longing that he’s trying to hide. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”


	2. inebriated decision making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The version where this fic earns the Explicit rating but it's not porn without plot because author radiodread can't write that. Instead, there's a healthy dose of a few other things, too, as listed in the tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author: radiodread  
> Also on: [Twitter](https://twitter.com/natastrophies), [Tumblr](https://radiodread.tumblr.com).

They were really only supposed to have a few beers. A few. Considering the fact that Haruki and Akihiko are hanging out with _high schoolers_ , they’ve got to set some sort of example as the elders of the band, maybe make sure Ritsuka and Mafuyu don’t go down the wrong path early on in life. Haruki tries, he really does. But sometimes, it doesn’t go very well, and it can end up with him having had a beer too many, like tonight.

“You ended up drinking a lot, too,” Akihiko drunkenly chastises Haruki as they walk into Haruki’s apartment, but he leaves out the part where Haruki had told _Akihiko_ to not drink that much. Pot – kettle – black. Maybe they’re both just too drunk to think that far.

“I’m so sleepy,” Haruki complains instead. He half stumbles into the apartment with Akihiko in tow, actually carefully putting his bass case away before he completely and unabashedly crashes on his bed. “Feel free to spread out a futon on the floor,” he continues, voice muffled by his pillow.

Akihiko grunts. “Too much work.”

What does he expect as a guest? Of course Haruki isn’t going to take the futon or the couch—it’s _his_ apartment. Not that his couch isn’t comfy, he’s slept on it more than a handful of times when he’s been watching a particularly dull film, and he’s never had a sore back or neck when waking up. Akihiko has _nothing_ to complain about.

Haruki turns around to lie on his back so he can face Akihiko with a glare he means to be as annoyed as possible. Maybe he succeeds, maybe he doesn’t.

“Well, sleep on the damn floor if—”

His snapping response is cut short when Akihiko practically flops down on top of him. _On top of him_ . Haruki’s heart stops beating, and he’s pretty sure he forgets how to breathe for a moment. Normally, he’s sure he’d find Akihiko heavy—because who _wouldn’t_ when the guy is standing at almost two metres tall and has a very muscular body?

It’s a very bad position to be in, Haruki quickly finds out. It’s bad in the sense that, if he stays like this much longer, he’ll have to do something about a certain situation that will arise. And how the hell is he going to do that when he’s got a big 184 centimetres tall loaf lying on top of him?

“Aki… hiko,” he whispers, almost wheezes. Maybe Akihiko _is_ heavy, after all. He probably should be, considering his build.

“Mmm,” comes the unexpected response, and Haruki nearly jumps out of his skin. Then, Akihiko shifts ever so slightly. “Shit. Am I crushing you?”

Haruki doesn’t want to admit to it, because that means Akihiko will roll off him. And, sure, that would probably save Haruki’s ribs in the end, but he also finds himself not really minding the current situation. Because, who is he kidding? He’s really madly in love with this guy, and he’ll take anything he can get at this point. Even if they’re both currently very much drunk and might not remember this tomorrow.

That thought in and of itself forms a strange knot that settles somewhere in the pit of his stomach, because in reality, Haruki doesn’t want Akihiko to forget. He knows he himself won’t forget, but Akihiko might.

“No,” Haruki elects to respond. “I, uh. I’m fine.”

Akihiko moves this time, and Haruki immediately feels the disappointment and the heat slowly dissipating from his body. “I’d probably feel uncomfortable, if I were you.”

“But I’m not?”

The look that Haruki receives makes his heart skip a beat. Akihiko isn’t _entirely_ there, but he’s still mostly present, mostly aware of what’s going on. His eyes are half-lidded, his face slightly tinged pink from the frankly immense amount of alcohol that guy can apparently consume, and Haruki finds him incredibly attractive. Even in moments like this one.

“Fucking dirty liar,” Akihiko says, and before Haruki can even think of what to say to that, Akihiko placing his lips against Haruki’s does the job for him. Apparently, a verbal response isn’t needed; good, because Haruki wouldn’t have been able to come up with anything coherent, anyway.

So instead, he decides to take the opportunity he’s been given, and make the best out of it. Yeah, it’ll hurt like hell if Akihiko doesn’t remember this come the next day, but maybe Haruki can try and be selfish for once, too. Maybe he can try to tell himself that he can use this opportunity to get what he wants, even if it won’t last.

The simple peck very quickly turns into something else. Akihiko prods Haruki’s lips apart with his tongue, and Haruki is more than happy to oblige. _Be selfish_ , he keeps telling himself, like a mantra. _Screw it if it won’t matter tomorrow_. He lays a hand on Akihiko’s back, keeping him there, and Akihiko adjusts his position a little, legs on either side of Haruki.

At least they’re able to somewhat function and non-verbally communicate while in bed. They might be sobering up already, Haruki can’t tell, but considering where things are going, he’s glad they hadn’t stuck around the bar any longer. If they had, and Akihiko had followed Haruki back home, he would’ve definitely been asleep by now. And that would’ve obviously obliterated any chance Haruki would’ve ever had at being close like this with Akihiko.

He shudders when Akihiko’s hands start roaming his body, pulling his shirt up and eventually over his head. It’s tossed somewhere to the side--hard to tell with the lack of light in the room, but Haruki doesn’t care. He pushes on Akihiko’s chest a little so he can sit up, and then he helps Akihiko undress, too. He’ll never _not_ appreciate seeing Akihiko without a shirt, it really is a sight to behold. The thing is, though, that he’s never seen Akihiko with less clothing than this, and he’s almost afraid of how he’ll react when they go further. _When_.

There really is a first time for everything.

Haruki’s skin tingles with Akihiko’s touch, and he feels like this might just be the death of him. Akihiko so effortlessly unravels him, makes him come undone with the caresses of his fingers, the sloppy kisses hailed down Haruki’s neck, his collarbone, his torso. He quickly resorts to letting Akihiko take the reins for a bit, curious to see what Akihiko likes, what he wants.

A gasp leaves him in both surprise and excitement when Akihiko pulls down Haruki’s boxers. He’s almost ashamed to admit- only to himself- that he’s been hard practically since the second Akihiko so unceremoniously flopped down on top of him, and though it’s been merely minutes since then, he’s already almost painfully hard. So it’s both a relief to finally have his cock be free, but it doesn’t remain free for long before Akihiko wraps his lips around the head.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Haruki groans. “Fuck, Aki.” 

There’s the sound of an obscenely wet _pop_ , and then Haruki finds himself disappointed again. He really hopes Akihiko won’t tease him and make him chase his orgasm- as much as that can be exciting at times, now is _not_ the time he wants such an experience.

“Yeah?” Akihiko responds. “‘S that good?”

Good? _Good?_ That would be selling it short, definitely. But Haruki currently lacks the ability to form any intelligent sentences, so he settles for the simple. Hopefully Akihiko hears that he means more than what comes out, though.

“Shit, yes. Yes. It’s perfect, keep going.”

When Akihiko does as he’s told, Haruki throws his head back and sighs. He closes his eyes and focuses on all that he can despite his still inebriated state: the feeling of Akihiko’s tongue swirling around the head, and how his lips feel as they move up and down Haruki’s length. Haruki learns very fast that he’s very much into how that piercing on Akihiko’s tongue feels against his normally sensitive skin down there. Right now, it doesn’t _feel_ sensitive, it feels absolutely fucking amazing.

His fingers grasp at Akihiko’s hair, and while the sober Haruki would’ve pulled his hand away immediately as if he’d gotten burnt, drunk Haruki doesn’t care. And it seems like Akihiko doesn’t care, either; rather, he seems to be fine with it because he responds by quickening his pace. Haruki wills himself to finally look, to take in more of the experience, so he cranes his neck to get a better look at Akihiko. The sight of Akihiko’s cheeks hollowing out as he pulls back almost all the way is so goddamn erotic it threatens to send Haruki over the edge.

“You look gorgeous like that,” he hears himself say, but Haruki doesn’t regret it. Akihiko chuckles in response, and since he’s still got Haruki’s cock in his mouth, the vibrations of his deep voice sends a shiver throughout Haruki’s entire body.

It’s when Akihiko swallows Haruki’s cock nearly whole that Haruki lets out a sound akin to a cry, and his head falls back again onto the pillow. Does Akihiko just not have a goddamn _gag reflex_? Where did he even learn to do such a thing? What kind of partners has he had before? He’s got a lot of questions for someone who’s currently getting a blowjob by his long-time crush during a moment that he won’t let himself forget anytime soon. There’s a lot of things happening at once and it makes him want to both crawl out of his skin and also never, ever leave.

He throws his arm over his face, breathing heavy through his nose; he’s getting very close now. His precum is leaking out past Akihiko’s lips, some dripping down his chin onto Haruki’s boxers, a few drops precariously clinging as if holding on for dear life. It’s a sloppy, wet, fucking _sexy_ mess, and it’s all Haruki wants, and more.

Haruki only notices that his thighs are trembling when Akihiko firmly plants a hand on the right one. It doesn’t slow Akihiko’s movements down, though, and Haruki is starting to suffer. His fingers grasp tighter on Akihiko’s hair, and he nearly jumps when Akihiko _hums_. Oh, so he’s into that sort of thing. For experimental purposes and a sick sense of curiosity, Haruki tugs again, and when Akihiko moans, Haruki unravels, his back arching as he finally comes. A dragged out, shaky sigh leaves him as his ejaculation comes out in small spurts, all of which Akihiko swallows without seemingly reacting to it at all.

When he’s thoroughly spent and Akihiko sits back up, Haruki slumps back down, catching his breath. He’s pretty sure he’s almost sober now, because he’s incredibly aware of the situation at hand and of the fact that he now _really_ needs to take a shower. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to leave Akihiko hanging; that wouldn’t be fair considering the treatment he’s just been given.

So he collects himself to the best of his abilities, and then he sits back up. He dares himself to look Akihiko straight in the eye.

“That… was something. Wait, it was really good.”

“Good. I would hope it was.”

Silence just barely starts to settle, and in that short moment, Haruki comes to the realisation that maybe he isn’t done just yet. Akihiko definitely isn’t, and he doesn’t want to leave Akihiko high and dry.

“You didn’t get anything.”

“No.”

Haruki swallows hard. “There’s lube in the drawer to your left.”

“Really?”

It’s not a “really, you have _lube_?” kind of question, Haruki knows that much. He feels something, though, maybe something close to pity. It feels like maybe Akihiko doesn’t expect to get something in return, and while Haruki doesn’t want to delve deeper into that thought and what it could possibly mean… he can’t quite help it.

“Aki, uh… can I-”

“I was almost hoping you’d imply that.”

Haruki blinks twice, and for once, he’s glad for the interruption. It’s none of his business. Thanks to Akihiko interrupting, Haruki can shove the thought aside, and he instead focuses on Akihiko reaching over to said nightstand drawer. As weird as it feels to even _think_ it, Haruki is very much excited for what’s to come. He’s already got his boxers down by his knees, he’s as prepared for this as could be.

Except for the fact that he definitely can’t take Akihiko as is, and he might not be entirely, mentally prepared for it. But that’ll come soon, probably.

“I’m gonna take these off?”

Haruki looks down again, and Akihiko looks at him like he’s asking for permission. Isn’t he? Isn’t that what he’s doing? Why would he _now_ , after what just transpired? Of course, it isn’t something Haruki doesn’t appreciate- quite the contrary. It’s surprisingly… sweet, somehow.

“Yeah,” Haruki replies. “Might be difficult otherwise.”

Instead of uselessly just lying there, Haruki helps by lifting his hips a little as Akihiko hooks fingers on each side of Haruki’s hips, pulling down and off his boxers. With them completely off, he suddenly feels almost bashful, embarrassed that Akihiko gets to see him like this, with absolutely nothing to hide, and nothing to hide behind. How did he end up here, about to be fucked by a guy who’s not his boyfriend, but just his _crush_?

Once again, Haruki watches Akihiko with mixed excitement and nervousness, though this time, it’s Akihiko lubing his fingers instead of sucking Haruki off. There’s a similar kind of excitement though the sight isn’t as erotic this time around. It’s still definitely up there, because Akihiko sheds his last piece of clothing to be just as naked as Haruki himself is. And it’s very much a sight Haruki swears to burn into his retinas so he can vividly remember it later on.

“‘Kay,” Akihiko says. “Let me know if you need more or less. And if it hurts.”

“Mhmm,” Haruki responds half-intelligibly due to that strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

He wills himself to relax his muscles, knowing it _will_ hurt if he doesn’t. Akihiko looks up at him, and it feels like too much eye contact. But Haruki doesn’t look away, because he notices _why_ Akihiko looks at him like this, and it makes a strange feeling bloom in his chest.

But like before, he doesn’t get to dwell on it as Akihiko pushes a finger inside. As the first knuckle goes in, Haruki’s breath hitches in his throat, but then he releases a sigh when Akihiko curls it. He can tell that it’s been a while since he last had sex with another guy, but not in the way that it hurts, necessarily. Especially considering how almost surprisingly gentle and careful Akihiko is.

Maybe _too_ careful.

“More.”

“Huh?”

“You can add another finger,” Haruki clarifies.

He’s trembling a little, but that’s just the adrenaline building up. As he’s sobering up, his nervousness is disappearing in what should be a completely unrelated way. Instead, greed starts to make its presence known.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

Aki does indeed add another finger, and soon after, a third. It’s definitely not _too_ soon, Haruki finds. Sure, it stings a little, but he doesn’t mind it- actually, he _likes_ it. He slowly starts rocking back and forth against Akihiko’s movements, and he earns what sounds like a satisfied or maybe impressed hum in response.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Akihiko murmurs. “You’re making me really wanna fuck you now.”

“And you didn’t before?” Haruki asks, fighting the urge to let a furious blush bloom in his cheeks. He hates this weird power Akihiko has to so easily affect how he thinks, feels, and acts sometimes. It’s as if his voice is Pavlov’s bell, and Haruki himself is one of those drooling dogs as it rings.

“Oh, I did. But a lot more now.”

Haruki gasps again when Akihiko pulls his fingers out to prep himself. That short break gives Haruki ample time to reflect on what’s going on - again. It really hasn’t been that long since he and Akihiko said goodbye to Mafuyu and Ritsuka, and now they’re here. In the bed in his apartment. Life has a way of maybe too often surprising Haruki, but this certainly takes the cake.

Akihiko lines himself up, and he leans forward, closer to Haruki. “Ready?”

He finds the sudden proximity to Akihiko’s face to be almost too much, too intimate. Some might argue that he’s just about to have Akihiko’s fucking _cock_ up his ass, but that doesn’t have to mean it’s an intimate thing. Sex is just sex. Love-making is a completely different ball game, and this won’t be… that. 

“As ready as I could be.”

Leaning even closer, Akihiko goes in for a kiss Haruki certainly isn’t expecting. They’ve already kissed, it shouldn’t feel that special… but it does. It feels like a reassuring kiss, as if Akihiko is trying to convey the message that he’d rather jump out a window from several floors up than end up hurting Haruki.

… He is _so_ in love with this man.

Haruki grits his teeth and breathes through his nose when Akihiko slowly pushes inside. He feels it all a little bit too much but he still wants all of what he’s feeling and experiencing, and _then_ some.

“ _Shit_ , that feels good,” Akihiko breathes. “You good?”

“Perfect.”

It feels like something unlocks within Akihiko right then, because he pulls out slowly almost all the way before he pushes in again with a little bit more force. Haruki’s fingers grasp at the duvet below him almost for dear life, and he pushes his head further down into the pillow as his back arches again. Akihiko continues with the hard thrusts, and Haruki _loves_ it.

He used to think they were very different people, but as time has passed, Haruki has realised more and more how similar he and Akihiko might be. And even here does he get to have that sort of realisation, that they might have similar preferences in bed.

Haruki loses himself to the sensation of Akihiko inside of him, and he’s inching ever so close to a second orgasm within a time span that probably shouldn’t be possible.

“Aki,” he says. “Aki, I’m coming.”

Akihiko nods fervently, and while he doesn’t _say_ anything in response, Haruki can tell that he’s close, too. The rhythm gets off-whack between the two and Haruki’s hip bones hit Akihiko’s a little too hard more than once. So he’s going to have bruises but not for the reasons one might think after sex, that’s… interesting.

The one who ends up coming first is Akihiko, but Haruki isn’t far behind at all. In the end, they end up in a position very similar to how this started in the first place- Akihiko laying on top of Haruki reminiscent of a dying or straight up dead fish. There’s the not-so-minor difference that, soon enough, Akihiko is laughing softly into Haruki’s ear, and then he plants a kiss to Haruki’s cheek as he moves a little.

“What’s that about?” Haruki asks, but he’s smiling, too.

“Dunno. I just… guess I wouldn’t mind if that happened again.”

_Will you remember this tomorrow?_

Haruki closes his eyes briefly. “Yeah. Me too.”


End file.
